


Soy Latte and The End of The World

by SuperPrincessPea



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperPrincessPea/pseuds/SuperPrincessPea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Aaron and Eric met and watched the world fall apart right before their very eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soy Latte and The End of The World

Eric knew his name. He knew he drank a tall soy latte with an extra shot of coffee and extra foam, unsweetened. He knew his order by heart for two reasons. One, because its exactly the drink he would order if he wasn’t the barista. Exact except for the sweetener since in Eric’s opinion there was nothing that couldn’t be improved without a little sweetener. Two, the reason he knew his order was because Aaron had been coming into his little coffee shop every Tuesday and Friday for the past six months.

 

Normally Eric was not one to shy away from saying hello and becoming someone’s best friend. But there was something about Aaron with his oh so cute curly hair that made him swallow all rational thought and words in exchange for enthusiastic nods combined with a glazed over expression. He was almost certain that Aaron thought he was in some manner not all the way together. Or to put it another way, plain crazy. In six months he had said five words, “Yes, no, thanks, morning and goodbye.”

 

Today was no different. Aaron had taken his favourite seat in the little coffee house. A table for two, nestled in the corner by the window. He would pull out his laptop, people watch the passers-by and remain in the little nook for the length of two, three sometimes even four lattes while he tapped away at his keyboard.

 

Eric didn’t even know if the man was gay. But instinct told him he was. Instinct and wishful thinking.

 

It was Friday today and all week the coffee house had been quieter. Eric had wondered if Aaron would even turn up today. The sickness that was being covered sporadically on the news had seemed to stop people leaving their house all together, whether it was because they were sick or scared he didn’t know. His parents lived overseas and he had spoken to them yesterday, all had been well. There was no sign of infection in their village and he’d promised to stay safe.

 

One of Eric’s friends had said that he wasn’t going to be heading into work today, or for the foreseeable future. Not until there were some answers on the mysterious pandemic. But then Chester always was one with a flair for the dramatic and unlike Eric who had a stack of debt and no rich boyfriend to bail him out, Chester could afford to stay in bed and watch the world fall apart from the safety of his 50-inch TV.

 

Eric wiped down the squeaky clean sides of his coffee bar for the tenth time and thought about talking to Aaron. He rehearsed opening lines of conversation in his head but practice made even his best ideas sound contrived. He was almost about to go for it, say something random, when the sound of a violent bang erupted in the street. He threw down the cloth that he was cleaning with to join Aaron and his other patrons at the coffee shop window.

 

A blue station wagon had crashed with a silver Prius. A blonde woman climbed from the latter screaming hysterically. Aaron pushed passed all the other patrons and ran out to the street. _Sweet baby Jesus,_ he looked so dashing and Eric wondered if he was a doctor as he found himself following the man. Not that he wanted to have any part in the mess that was taking place in the street. All he wanted was a front row seat in watching his curly haired crush taking action.

 

A crowd had already formed and the wails of the woman became words, “he bit me, he fucking bit me…”

 

Inside the Prius, the man was still sitting in the passenger’s seat, thrashing around and the noise he made was more of a growl than a cry.

 

A young man in the crowd started shouting, “infection… it’s the infection…” as he pointed to the Prius and began to run away. The panicked words weren’t enough to stop Aaron from approaching the woman and checking out her wound. Eric was about to take a closer look at the angry growling passenger when Aaron touched his arm.

 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked as he steered the injured woman to his coffee shop.

 

Eric nodded and looked behind him to the man that was still thrashing in the car. Nobody was approaching him. In fact, the shouts of infection had made the crowd almost disappear.

 

“Good, get me the kit then call for an ambulance.”

 

Aaron had sat the woman down at the table in the middle of the floor and Eric passed him the tiny first aid kit. He’d bought what regulations suggested and nothing more. He wasn’t even sure what was in there or exactly how to use it.

 

Eric walked to the phone that was attached to the wall behind the coffee bar and dialled 911. It rang and rang and rang. No automated options. No ‘sorry this line is experiencing a high volume of calls’. Just perpetual ringing. He googled the number for the nearest hospital and it was the same again. Eric suddenly felt worried. What if this pandemic was more than just coughs and colds? What if it was the real deal? He looked at the woman’s bloody arm and the words of the man in the street repeated in his head, ‘infection, infection, infection.’ Then another thought occurred. For the first time in six months he was going to have to say more than one of his five words to Aaron.

 

The woman was sobbing and almost inaudible as she said, “he’s my neighbour, a woman scratched him yesterday. He was getting worse so I offered to drive him to the hospital. He tried to sleep on the journey then the next thing he was going crazy, started grabbing me… I tried to push him back and he did this…”

 

“Don’t worry Molly, I’ve wrapped your wound. You won’t bleed out. We’ll get you to the hospital and you’ll be okay.”

 

“Can I have a word?” Eric tried to sound relaxed as he spoke to Aaron and passed the woman a cup of sweet tea.

 

They walked to where he felt securely out of the woman’s eavesdropping range and he took a deep relaxing breath like he had learned on his two trips to yoga. “There’s no answer at the hospital or 911.”

 

Aaron looked over his shoulder at the woman and pulled out his phone to try 911 himself. Eric couldn’t help but feel a little irked. Did he not believe him? Aaron suddenly didn’t look quite as dashing.

 

The sound of more shouts began to roar from the street and even from the back wall of the coffee house he could see a commotion. Once more everyone in the coffee shop, which was only Aaron, Eric and Molly, ran to the window.

 

“That’s him… that’s my neighbour,” Molly said.

 

The man she pointed to was clawing his way from her crashed car before he started charging for the closest person he could get his hands on. The little old lady just stood there, maybe in a daze or sheer fright but she didn’t move a muscle as the neighbour sank his teeth into her neck and ripped her flesh apart. The neighbour and the lady fell to the floor as the man began to… feed.

 

Another man, the kind of man who looked like he worked out six times a week and drank protein shake by the bucketful, tried to pull the neighbour off but was rewarded with a frantic bite to his muscular arm as the cannibal turned his attention and insatiable hunger to the hunk of fresh meat. Eric didn’t want to, but he couldn’t look away. It was the most disturbing thing he had ever seen but he was captivated. It almost didn’t feel real, watching the horror unfurl though the safety of the glass. He wondered if a camera crew would jump out from behind the cars and shout, “gotcha.”

 

Aaron was not as bewildered as Eric felt. He grabbed one of the black metal chairs and charged out of the coffee shop.

 

“Oh my god,” Eric held his cheeks in his hands and didn’t know what to do with himself as he watched Aaron hit the bloodthirsty man over the head with the chair. The neighbour fell back but not for long, he stood up again and charged. A look of panic crossed Aarons face and he hit the man again… then again. The hitting and the charging continued until Eric was imploring the curly haired superhero to “get back inside.”

 

Aaron dropped the chair and ran into the coffee house where they slammed the door in the neighbours frenzied face. The cannibal lost interest in them almost instantly as he ran down the street to find an easier target. It was like a nightmare. Eric wanted to be sick, he felt the numbness of shock as well as the heart racing panic of adrenaline as his fight or flight response started to kick in.

 

The body of the old lady lay motionless in the road. The man with the injured arm was gone.

 

“Try 911 again,” Aaron barked as he blocked the door with a table and took point at the window.

 

Eric did as he was told. He dialled the numbers and took the phone with him into the sanctuary of the back room. When he was alone he let the tears that were starting to overwhelm his eyes fall freely. The steady ringing of the phone soothed him and he allowed the sound to fill every inch of his thoughts as the flood of tears cascaded to emptiness. When the tears were long gone he looked at the digital timer on the screen of the phone and realised he’d been standing like that for 22 minutes. Now he was in absolutely no doubt that there wasn’t going to be an answer to his emergency call. In fact, after what he had just witnessed coupled with the rumours and unrest of the past few weeks he was wondering if there would ever be an answer to a 911 call ever again.

 

Aaron was still watching the street when he stood shoulder to shoulder with him. Molly was lying on one of the two seater sofas, curled into a ball and whimpering as she held her bandaged arm and tried to place a call on her mobile phone.

 

“No answer,” Aarons said as a statement rather than a question.  

 

The body of the old lady began to move. Just the twitch of her arm at first. It was so subtle that Eric thought he had imagined it. Then she sat up, her back was to the window as she looked slowly from left to right. The wound at her neck was gaping and he was no expert but it looked fatal. Yet there she was, sitting and looking. Not looking, searching.

 

Eric and Aaron didn’t make a noise, they didn’t move, they held their breath and despite their stillness the old lady saw them through the glass. The look in her eye was the same as the neighbour’s had been. Empty, dead, hungry. ‘Infection, infection, infection.’

 

Eric turned his head to see Molly dozing on the sofa. The wound at her arm was soaking blood through her bandage and a film of sweat was starting to settle on her face. She sucked in long ragged breaths and let her phone slip from her hand to the hardwood floor.

 

He didn’t know if it was his conscious thought or subconscious, if it was his hand or Aaron’s that had made the first move but when he looked down between their bodies he saw that their fingers were curled tightly in an embrace.

 

This was the real deal.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
